


Amends

by faketreefinger



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-30
Updated: 2008-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:46:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7990738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faketreefinger/pseuds/faketreefinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grissom meets an old friend that gives him a nudge in the right direction. post Grave Danger</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

"Gil Grissom, were you really going to walk right past me?"

The corner of his mouth turned upward in amusement when he recognized the feminine voice behind him and he turned on his heels to acknowledge her. She began walking up the aisle of the large lecture hall, a teasing smirk on her face.

"Apparently I was, but not on purpose. I assure you," he responded with a kind smile, shifting the heavy laptop bag to his right shoulder. "Hello, Jane."

People bustled around them to take their seats, preparing for the next speaker, but the woman nearing him paid them no attention as she gathered Grissom in a warm hug. He couldn't help but breathe in the alluring floral scent of her shoulder-length, brown hair, and he smiled despite his slight discomfort.

"Hello to you," she murmured in his ear and pulled back, still smiling. "You look great! The beard's a nice touch."

Grissom shrugged bashfully and nodded his thanks. "The years have been kind to you," he responded in honesty.

She was always an attractive woman, probably the most attractive woman he had ever actually dated. But it had been around ten years since he had last seen her and, he noted, she really didn't look any older. Her features were still soft and pleasing and he had always admired the way her hazel eyes lit up when she was delighted by something.

"Always the gentleman," Jane said with a grin, obviously flattered by his remark. "C'mon let's get outta here and catch up." She gently guided him up the aisle and out the door with barely masked excitement.

"How've you been?" he asked her as they walked the hallway outside the lecture hall. "I assume you're here for the conference?"

"Well kinda. I've been teaching Bioinformatics here at NYU for the past three years," she said easily, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with him, her hands shoved easily in her jacket.

He raised his eyebrows and looked over at her. "Really? You? A teacher?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she laughed and added, "And I like it. Can you believe that?"

This surprised him. She had never liked being around people when he worked with her in Minneapolis and had stuck to lab work, mainly DNA analysis and profiling.

"No, I can't. You've changed. I thought people annoyed you."

"They did. Maybe that's why you and I got along so well," she said and bumped shoulders with him teasingly.

Grissom shrugged. "Perhaps."

He and Jane had dated for almost two months before he began distancing himself. She had broken it off as he had predicted she would, but their friendship hadn't suffered much. Truth was, while he couldn't deny an attraction on a physical level and she was fun to be around, he had never developed feelings beyond that and being with her had made him sad. Not to mention, she had never been quite the workaholic he had been.

"Let's get some dinner," suggested Jane softly, stopping beside him. She rested her hand on his upper arm and looked at him, a small grin formed on her lips and her hazel eyes danced in the dimming sunlight of New York City.

Grissom gave a slight smile, considering her suggestion. If he had thought it would just be a dinner between two friends, two old colleagues, the answer would be quite simple. But the way her eyes narrowed and lingered on his, the way her right hand lagged lightly on his bicep, and the way she subtly bit her lip, gave him pause.

Her eyebrows rose in question and he clenched his jaw, wondering why he was even considering this. Deciding—or rationalizing rather—that he was reading too much into it he conceded with a nod.

Besides, he was single. And he knew her. And he didn't have anywhere better to be until his flight took off for Las Vegas, Nevada the next morning. No, he rationalized, there was nothing wrong with dinner.

"Where?" he asked with a small smile, shifting his laptop bag again.

The moment Jane squeezed his arm and gave him a pleased, playful smile, Sara Sidle, his unrequited love across the country, crossed his mind and he gave an inner sigh, wondering if he was going to be able to get her out of his head for the rest of the night.

Two hours later, Grissom and Jane were seated at a table in a restaurant in Greenwich Village, talking comfortably about past and current times. Grissom found himself drinking a little too much wine, but felt that if he didn't, he would think too much and wouldn't enjoy himself at all. So he thought less, poured himself and Jane another glass, and drank it down as if it were pleasant-tasting medicine.

"Las Vegas! God, I have such a hard time imagining you there!" she said with a laugh, taking a bite out of her herb-crusted salmon.

Grissom cocked his head to the side curiously, fingering the stem of the wine glass. "Why's that?"

She looked to the side in thought as she finished chewing. "I don't know, I guess because Vegas is so…" she trailed off, looking for the right words.

"So?"

"In your face!" she said on a laugh and drank her wine. "It's so blatantly shameless and loud and…" her hands waved about the air and a scowl set on her face as she searched for the words, "And so… well, not you at all, let's just say that."

"Well what city would you say is me?" he asked, amused.

"Somewhere more boring."

"Thank you," said, sipping his wine and feigning offense.

"Like, anywhere in Montana," she laughed and he couldn't help the small grin forming on his face as he shook his head and chewed his asparagus.

Suddenly, he felt a strange sensation on his leg and realized, with no small amount of shock, that she was running her foot up his calf. His eyebrows rose slightly and she sipped her Merlot with a silent, secret smile.

The vibration of his cell phone in his pants pocket made him jump slightly and her foot dropped. He pulled out the cell phone and muttered a sorry as he glanced at the screen. Sara Sidle…

He could feel a small smile creeping up from inside of him, but he repressed it and looked up at Jane with an apologetic expression.

"I have to take this, I'm sorry."

She shrugged easily and said, "It's okay, go ahead."

He lifted himself from the table and headed towards the alcove in the back where the bathrooms were located. Flipping the phone open and letting the smile grace his face, he answered, "Hello?"

"Grissom, hey," Sara's voice reverberated in his ear. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

"Uh, no, no, not at all," he said with a glance in Jane's direction. "What's up?"

"Well, I'm in your office and I'm looking for the Davidson case file. You said it would be on your desk, but I don't see it."

"Oh." He reluctantly acknowledged to himself his disappointment that the phone call was purely work related.

"Geez, you have a lot of mail waiting for you here."

"I usually do when I go away for any length of time," he said with a sigh, not looking forward to the barrage of letters and paperwork that was piling up on his desk. "Maybe I left it in my desk. Look in middle right drawer."

He heard shuffling and after a moment a victorious "ah-ha!"

"Found it?"

"Yep."

"Good."

There was a pause and he heard Sara clear her throat. "So how's your vacation?"

"It's not a vacation. It's a conference," he responded, leaning against the wall and shoving his hand into the pocket of his black slacks. He threw another glance in Jane's direction, suddenly feeling guilty that he would much rather be having an awkward conversation with Sara, than an easy one with Jane.

"Okay, fine, how's the conference?" He imagined her rolling her eyes and he smiled.

He let the smile show in his voice when he responded, "It's been… kind of boring to be honest."

"That's too bad."

There was another pause as Grissom thought of another, safe topic that would keep her on the phone. Suddenly remembering that Nick had only been back for a few days since his horrifying incident, he decided to inquire about their mutual colleague and friend.

"How's Nick doing?" he asked slowly.

"Nick is… well, Nick is Nick. You can kind of tell he's still on edge, but he just takes it all in stride," Sara said, her voice suddenly low and soft.

"I'd expect nothing else from him. He's always been that way."

Sara hummed her agreement and another pause followed.

"Well, I should get back to work," she said. "So we'll be seeing you tomorrow night then?"

"Yeah. I'll be back tomorrow night," he confirmed and added softly, "Goodnight, Sara."

To his confusion, she didn't answer right away and he wondered if she already hung up. But a small, quiet "'Night, Griss," came across the line and he smiled, flipping the cell phone shut slowly.

He returned to the table, slightly guilt-ridden and unaware of how long he had been gone. Jane was staring out the window at the dark city street, swirling the half-full wine glass in her hand.

"I'm very sorry about that," he told her, sitting back down in his seat. "I didn't mean to be rude, but—"

"Work, right?" she asked good-naturedly, a gleam still in her eye.

Grissom downed the rest of his wine and nodded.

"Come on up and see my place," Jane said casually as they stood outside her vast apartment building in Greenwich Village. She ascended the steps without waiting for him to reject her and so he followed, vaguely aware of his propensity to control himself.

He was slightly tipsy, he had to admit, but he reminded himself that he had purposely drank that wine to take the edge off and that it had done its purpose and he felt remarkably light as he followed her in the elevator, down her hallway and through her doorway.

She stopped as the door clicked shut and held her hands out with exaggeration. "My humble abode! Ya like?"

"It's spacious," he commented, moving further into the room. "Yes, I like it."

"Thanks!' she said cheerily and moved into the kitchen, flicking the lights on. "Can I get you something? More wine, perhaps?"

Grissom gave a short laugh and shook his head, shrugging out of his blazer and rolling up the sleeves of his light blue dress shirt. "No more wine for me, thank you."

"Make yourself comfortable," she told him as she moved past him and into the bedroom.

Grissom ignored the comment, almost immediately eager to leave. His eyes scanned the modern decorations about the room and they settled on her neatly arranged bookshelf. His lips quirked upward as his fingers danced over the bindings. Mostly biology texts, arranged by size on the tall shelves.

"Discovering Genomics, Proteomics, and Bioinformatics," he muttered to himself one of the titles of the books.

"Wanna borrow it?" came a voice from behind him. It was a slightly sultry, slightly amused voice and Grissom gulped, not wanting to turn around. He did anyway and the look on Jane's face was compelling and startling. She was seducing him, no doubt about it, he thought, and he suddenly felt rather powerless.

"I don't think I'd have the time to read it. But thank you," he replied, his voice low as she neared him, a seductive grin on her face. His eyes darted to her lips and he watched her tongue sweep over them in one short motion.

She was face to face with him, raising herself on her toes, her hands coming up to slide over his chest and behind his neck, her lips getting closer and closer to his and he wasn't stopping her. Sara's face, a broad and happy smile, bombarded his thoughts as he closed his eyes and let Jane's lips cover his.

And he remembered…

About a month after he met Sara, he was back in Las Vegas, emailing her and thinking of her far too much for comfort when a pleasant and witty American Literature professor from WLVU asked him to join her for dinner and then asked him to join her in her apartment. And seduced him, despite the fact that he had been slightly distracted throughout most of the date.

The literature teacher had kissed him with force and desperation and he had kissed back. He had paid attention to her body and had been gentlemanly. He had been slow when she wanted slow and fast when she wanted fast. But

the moment he had slid inside of her warm heat, Sara's face had entered into his mind and wouldn't exit. Guilty, oh so guiltily, his enjoyment had heightened the moment he had stopped trying to forget about her. He had just let it be and pretended. Yes, he had pretended that the woman he was having sex with was another woman. He had never thought he would be that guy, but there he was, wishing that the writhing, moaning woman beneath him was Sara Sidle. Beautiful, gap-toothed Sara Sidle that lived in another state and he may never actually see again. The literature teacher said his name and came around him and he just kept on pretending.

And when he came inside her, well, he was definitely pretending then and he made sure not to say anything. No one's name escaped his lips and when he rolled off of her, sweaty and thirsty, the sadness immediately replaced the pleasure.

Jane was unknowingly evoking the same response in his body as her lips crashed hungrily over his. He felt a moan vibrating his tongue as she pulled his body close to hers and pushed them both up against the bookshelf. His body was responding, no mistake about that, but he was still thinking about Sara. He was thinking about her so strongly that he was afraid he would speak her name and the idea mortified him so intensely that he regained control and pushed Jane away from him.

"I can't do this, Jane," he whispered huskily and even he had to admit it sounded rather unconvincing. He looked her straight in the eyes, willing Sara's face to disappear but his nerves were still on edge, he was still aroused, and he could still see her standing before him.

He wanted it to be Sara.

Jane just grinned, rather wickedly, and neared him again. Her lips hovered salaciously over his and his eyes widened and his nerves jumped as her right hand cupped his erection lightly. He bit back a moan, but closed his eyes.

"Certainly feels like you can," she whispered against his lips and kissed him again. Selfishly, he let her for a moment, but when she nipped his bottom lip he was brought back to reality and he pushed her away gently.

"Behave," he told her. "You're drunk."

Jane continued grinning and stepped away from him. A soft laugh escaped her throat and she shrugged. "Yeah, maybe a little. Aren't you?"

"No."

"Good grief, Gil, would you just relax," she said with a hint of exasperation and a hint of humor as she crossed the room and entered the kitchen again. "I know you're leaving tomorrow. I'm only after you for your body."

She winked at him before opening the refrigerator. Grissom couldn't help grin a little at her loose, casual tone as he mentally and physically composed himself. It had been many years since he had been even that physically intimate with a woman and his body's urge to continue was compelling.

But Sara's face, thoughts of her body trembling under his, her moans of pleasure soft in his ear… they weren't going away no matter how attractive Jane was. She just wasn't Sara and it wasn't fair for her. It had become even more difficult, especially since the turmoil of Nick's abduction, to deny how strongly he felt for Sara and he had admitted to himself that he really wanted no one but her. He had yet to figure out what to do about it. Having sex with Jane wouldn't solve anything or help him at all and the brief pleasure wouldn't be worth the sadness that would inevitably encompass him.

No matter how badly his body wanted it.

Jane swept back through the room, her long skirt flowing back and forth and kicked off her shoes. She handed him one of the water bottles in her hand and smiled. When he didn't return the smile, hers faded and she looked at him with sudden dismay.

"Oh, God, you aren't seeing someone are you? I hadn't even considered—"

"No," he cut her off, "I'm not." He could feel his eyes darting conspicuously and he knew how pensive and distracted he looked, but didn't seem to care.

Jane gave a small, curious smile. "Oh."

"If I were seeing someone, we wouldn't have gotten this far," he said with a thankful smile as he took the bottle of water from her hand.

Jane merely hummed her acknowledgement and took a seat on her plush, microfiber couch. She relaxed and propped her feet up and Grissom noticed the stark contrast of her maroon skirt and the off-white of the cushions. He also noted how flushed Jane was as she gulped back her water. He took a long sip of his own, rather awkwardly, and could feel her eyes burning a hole in him. When he finally looked at her, her eyes were narrowed, a small but knowing smile on her lips.

"What's her name?" she asked curiously and his eyes widened.

"I told you I'm not involved with anyone," he responded immediately, his voice gruff.

"You're in love with someone though, aren't you?" Her voice was soft and unimposing, but it certainly startled him nonetheless. He could easily brush off the comment, he thought, deny it and make an exit but for some reason he couldn't which shocked him. He just looked at her silently.

"You really haven't changed at all have you?" she asked, seemingly surprised by this. Her voice was somewhat sad.

Grissom sat down on the matching, soft microfiber chair and shrugged. "I'm forty-nine years old. It's unlikely I'm going to."

Jane gave a short laugh of humor. "Well I'm forty, and I know damn well that I change a little every day. Come on, Gil, you're smart enough to know that we never stop growing."

"I know."

"And growing is changing, in a way."

"In a way."

"And if you love someone, you'll grow. You'll change. They'll change you and you'll let 'em." After a pause, she asked, "Does she know?"

Grissom allowed a moment of silence before his eyes narrowed on her a bit. "You know, I never said I was in love with anyone. Or even that I was interested in anyone."

She smiled. "You didn't have to."

Grissom studied the strange patterns on the rug beneath his shoes, unable to meet her gaze.

"Look, Gil, I've always cared about you and I've thought about you over the years. You're brilliant, you're handsome, you can cook…"

He smiled down at the carpet. "Well thank you, Jane."

"But you have no clue how to handle even the simplest of emotions." Jane was suddenly sober and looking at him with clarity and sincerity and he looked back down in discomfort.

She continued on when he didn't speak, "I'm not going to act like I know you all that well and I wouldn't dare attempt to shrink you. I'm just stating the obvious."

The bottle of water rolled between his palms and he remained lost for words.

"Have you had any even remotely serious relationships since we last saw each other?"

"No," he responded, clearing his throat.

Jane was quiet for a moment and Grissom wished he had just left when he could have, or perhaps even taken her to bed. He had never dealt well with conversations like this about himself and his jaw clenched painfully as he thought of a way to extract himself.

Jane got up from the couch, then sat back down on the cushion closest to the chair. Her hand rested on his knee lightly as she said, "Don't spend the next forty-nine years like that. Change. That's all I have to say. I'm done, I swear."

He looked at her hand on his knee. It was a friendly gesture, meant for comfort, and he was surprised at how alleviated he felt. He hadn't said much, she had done most of the talking, but he felt slightly liberated of the oppressing secret of loving Sara Sidle. Giving his head a short nod, he looked up at her and smiled. He knew the smile was sad by the way she looked at him kindly and sighed.

"I have an early flight," he finally said, getting up from the chair.

"Yeah. I'm really glad we ran into each other."

"We didn't run into each other. You stalked me," Grissom responded, the humor lacking in his voice but evident in his face.

Shamelessly, Jane shrugged. "Eh, whatever."

Grissom gave a silent chuckle.

"Who knows when I'll see you again. But it's been nice, I think," Jane said.

"Yes it has."

There was a pause as they moved to the door and Grissom shrugged his blazer back on. She looked at him warmly and pulled him in for a hug. He smiled softly into her hair and she murmured into his ear before he pulled away, "So you really aren't going to tell me her name, are you?"

He pulled back and looked at her seriously, opening the front door. "No." She looked slightly aghast and he added, "Good night, Jane. Good luck with… everything."

"You too."

Grissom smiled and stepped into the hallway. He walked about five steps before he hear her voice behind him.

"Oh, come on! It's not like I'm gonna fly to Las Vegas and out you!"

Grissom smiled to himself and stopped walking. He bit his lip and turned to her, amused by her curiosity.

"Sara. Her name is Sara."

Jane smiled softly at him and nodded. "Pretty."

Grissom nodded back. "Yeah."

He turned and left, eager to return to Las Vegas. Eager to make a change.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Listen…" Grissom started quietly and cleared the huskiness from his voice. "I have a question I want to ask, but it could upset you."

He took a bite out of his club sandwich and blue, nervous eyes darted to the side to watch her as she considered this. She wiped her mouth slowly with her napkin and looked up from her own sandwich. Her head turned to him and their eyes locked.

"What is it?" she asked calmly and a short breeze blew strands of small curls against her cheeks. She licked her lips, an innocent action that stirred something within him. Her eyes were soft and inviting and a smile, practically non-existent, was teasing her lips. She showed curiosity, not hesitance, which gave him a little confidence to proceed.

Taking a deep, but obscure breath, his face softened and the serenity of her features seemed to move off of her in slow, sweet waves and settle around him. The laughter of small children playing in the green grass around them amused his ears and he smiled, suddenly feeling very collected and tranquil.

"How do you feel about me?" he asked, his voice low and deliberate.

The silent moment that followed was a lengthy one and although he wished he didn't have to, he broke eye contact and looked down at the half-eaten club sandwich sitting on the wrapping paper in his lap. She mumbled some sort of "ummm" and cleared her throat awkwardly. He felt clumsy and immediately searched for a way to back-peddle and minimize embarrassment.

But he didn't back-peddle.

This was about changing, after all, he surmised, so he looked back up to gather his thoughts. His eyes settled on the two children chasing around a Golden Retriever with a neon green Frisbee. He watched them roll around the grass with their companion and heard their laughter. Their innocence gave him an odd sort of strength to continue, reminding him that that sort of happiness, that elation, could still be within his reach and it was his job to grab at it, hold onto it, and keep it from tumbling into the abyss.

"Why are you asking?" she asked him suddenly, looking at him with a sharp turn of her head. It caused him to look at her and their eyes locked again. Though her tone was still calm and quiet, her temperament had changed from serenity to uneasiness.

His eyebrows raised and though the question was expected, his answer didn't seem fitting. He said anyway, "Because I don't know how you feel about me and asking you is the only way I know how to find out. I'm not good at signals and—"

"No, I mean, why do you wanna know?"

He considered this question, finding it wholly understandable. Balling up his trash and tossing it in a brown paper bag, he leaned over and rested his forearms on his knees. Clasping his hands together, he let out a long sigh.

"I wish I had a really good answer for that," he said and turned his head to offer her a small but genuine smile.

To his surprise, she smiled back and said, "You probably do, you just can't seem to tell me."

"I'm no good at this," he said with resignation, his gaze boring into the well-traveled dirt beneath his shoes. He kicked at it and grunted in frustration, annoyed at himself for being so idiotic in matters of the heart. He wanted to change. So desperately it was making him sick.

"I know," she said quietly. "But I'm not going to answer that question unless I know it will make a difference what I say."

He leaned back against the bench and gripped the edge of the smooth, used wood. "What do you mean?" he asked, finding her eyes with his.

"I mean that—" she stopped herself and looked down with a shy smile. The breeze was blowing her hair again and his fingers itched to tuck the rogue strands behind her ears. He longed to touch her somehow. "If you're asking just so you  _know_ , then that's not very fair to me."

He had a response, deep down somewhere, but it wouldn't surface so he just looked at her calmly, a small, crooked grin lighting his face. He wondered if she truly understood and was just giving him a hard time. He deserved it, he realized, as he watched her duck her head down bashfully.

She shook her head and looked back up at him. "You're different," she stated simply. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes at him and asked, "What happened in New York?"

She had said he was different, he thought, and that must have been a good thing. He was  _trying_ to be different. Different was good. They had both been dancing awkwardly around each other for years and years, had tossed and turned over moments laden with sexual tension and innuendo, had made a habit of ignoring and compartmentalizing and he found it rather amusing that, although the culmination of all of these things over so many years was this very moment for him, she had simply assumed his one week trip to New York had brought them there on a warm park bench during their lunch break, him broaching subjects he would typically avoid. Truth be told, his trip and consequential run-in with an ex-girlfriend , though enlightening, had played a very small role in this. But it was the final role and he had to be honest about that.

He made sure his eyes smiled right along with his lips when he looked at her and answered, "I missed you."

It took a moment, but Sara smiled and blushed. She pressed her lips together and gave a slow nod. Grissom turned his body so his arm was draped across the back of the bench. He pulled his knee up into the space between them, feeling immediately closer to her.

"I really missed you. You know when you called me…" he smiled wider and looked down for a moment, shaking his head, unbelieving that he was saying these things. When he looked back up at her he head was cocked to the side, a curious and imploring expression on her face. "Sara, when you called me it was the highlight of my week."

He could see her swallow as she ducked her head and studied the dusty ground. She was speechless. He had made Sara speechless and he rejoiced in this small victory, finding solace in the softness of her expression.

A surge of confidence overtook him and he reached his finger out to tuck the hair behind her left ear. Sara bit her lip and looked back up at him. He would have been nervous if not for the small grin gracing her lips. Suddenly, her brow knitted together and her grin widened. His fingers lingered on the soft crest of her ear and Grissom was surprised at how such a small touch could rouse such desire in him. Then again, it was Sara, he thought, and his affection for her had been bottled up for a good seven years or so. His thumb made slow motions on her ear while the back of his fingers grazed her smooth brown hair. When she licked her lips again, desire washed through him and settled in his groin. There wasn't a piece of him that didn't want her lips on his, but before he could even think of moving, she broke the tension-laden silence.

"And to think, I always thought you were shy," she said and laughed. "You're not so shy."

"No," he responded in a low, intimate voice. "I  _was_  unsure. But Sara, I'm not anymore."

Eyes stilled on each other for another long moment until Grissom's cell phone trilled from his pocket. He closed his eyes and flipped the phone open, answering briskly. He watched Sara begin to gather up their trash, compacting it all in the brown paper bag and Grissom relayed to Catherine that they were indeed on their way back to the lab, they had just stopped for a much-needed lunch break.

When he flipped the phone shut, Sara was already on her feet. He raised from the park bench, surprised at how much he missed the warmth of the sun-beaten wood, and stood in front of her, closer than he normally would have.

"Guess we should get goin'" Sara said with a crooked smile but slightly sad eyes.

And they trekked back to the Denali without speaking of the conversation. Grissom thought, perhaps, he should give her some space like she had done him. She needed time to work it all out, maybe. Her hesitance was alarming, however, and he couldn't help his nervousness. He couldn't help the horrible thoughts that danced around in his mind, reminding him that maybe she was over him and his chances were all used up. But, he recalled, she hadn't completely acted that way in the park. She hadn't been angry or indignant. She had acted confused, but if anything she had been intrigued. So, he tried to remain positive.

But when they didn't see much of each other for the rest of the night, he became paranoid that he was being avoided. After all, he had avoided her many times. Shift went by slowly and when the time came to leave, he still couldn't find her. He asked Nick and Greg if they knew where she was and they confirmed that she had went home. Grabbed her stuff from her locker and silently slipped out of the doors. Uncharacteristically, they added, and asked if everything was alright with her.

Well, he didn't know.

And he felt dreadfully vulnerable.

But that was a change and so somehow, it felt kind of good and terrible at the same time. Deciding that he couldn't possibly minimize embarrassment or hurt if she rejected him at this point anyway, he settled into his car and headed to her apartment with absolutely no game plan. He hadn't even had one two days ago when he had landed back in Vegas, strangely excited to see Sara and to get his feelings at least somewhat off of his chest. The right moment had only seemed to present itself when they had been out chasing a lead and decided to take a lunch break at one of Sara's favorite delis. And when he had remembered the park nearby, she had seemed more than willing to sit on a park bench and enjoy her sandwich with him. When he had turned to look at her, her hair swaying slightly in the breeze and her mouth turned upward at a horrible joke he had made, his heart had thumped loudly against his chest and he could no longer stay silent. And he was still glad he had said something, even if it was looking like it was possible things wouldn't go his way.

That didn't mean that when he found himself staring blankly at the faded maroon color of her front door, his stomach wasn't in knots. Because it was. But that didn't stop him from eventually knocking. The door slowly opened, revealing Sara, bare feet with jeans and a black T-shirt. Grissom gave a small, sheepish smile and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

She smiled at him, practically beamed with her mouth still closed, but didn't look even the slightest bit surprised by his presence.

"Grissom," she greeted him and after a short moment asked, "How are you?"

His eyes darted around a bit and he opened his mouth to answer an instinctive 'fine' but decided against it and went for honesty instead. "I'm a little nervous."

Her eyes widened as she leaned on the door and she grinned, replying, "Well, that's honest."

"Yeah," he said while letting out a breath.

"Did you wanna come in?" she asked sweetly.

He looked at her for a moment, suddenly realizing that he may be rushing her, something she never did to him. "I don't wanna crowd you, Sara. I'm sure you need some time. I probably shouldn't have just stopped by like this—"

"It's okay. You want an answer to your question," she said, nodding her head in understanding and he nodded back, slowly walking over the threshold.

As soon as he stepped inside, he became blissfully aware of how close his body was to hers. While he would have ignored the desire that tended to pulse throughout his body when she was close, he couldn't anymore. He stopped and turned to her and her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He realized how pensive he looked and was sure that she could sense his desire for her, but she didn't back away or ask him what he was doing. She didn't say a thing, but her tongue darted out to wet her lips and he took that as an invitation. Seemingly by their own accord, his hands left the warm pockets of his jackets and he placed them on either side of her face, his thumbs grazing her ears and his fingers sliding through her hair. His lips met hers in an agonizingly slow and sweet kiss. They were still for a moment until Sara quietly whimpered a bit, which caused him to deepen the kiss ardently. Her hand left the doorknob and slid up his chest, the first time she had ever really touched him, and suddenly he was consumed by the need to press his body to hers. Slowly, though, Sara pulled away from him and his eyes opened to find her looking at him in bewilderment. They stood there in a trance for a long moment, which Grissom found rather disquieting.

Her eyes drifted away towards the hallway and Grissom looked over, realizing the door was still wide open. A young, disheveled man was standing outside his door with a piece of pizza in his hand and a maddening grin plastered on his face. He was nodding his head slowly, his eyebrows raising suggestively.

"Hey there, Sara," he said, taking a bite out of his pizza and closing his front door behind him.

"Hey Ted," she answered warily, her eyes darting to the floor and Grissom noticed the slight quiver in her voice.

The young man looked Grissom in the eyes and gave him a thumbs up. Grissom narrowed his eyes in annoyance and shot him his best irritated glance as the guy shuffled off down the hallway, mumbling something. He shook his head and turned to Sara. She was still staring in the hallway, but turned to him after a moment letting out a short breath.

"Ted… my neighbor. He's a little weird," she offered, clearing trying to postpone the awkwardness that was soon to follow.

"Aren't we all?" he said wistfully with a grin. She smiled but looked at him seriously. He had no idea what to say or do, so he looked down with a bashful smile and gave his head a little shake, wishing they could just get past this awkwardness. "Look, I don't—"

He was cut off by Sara's lips landing hungrily on his. He grunted at the unexpected, but welcomed contact. Something had snapped in her because she was kissing him now, hard kisses, and her hands were sliding to the back of his head, pulling him in closer with the desperation that he felt but had held back previously.

"S-Sara…" he tried to speak between kisses but she wasn't paying him any attention. He pulled away a bit, surprising her. "Sara," he mumbled against her lips.

"What?" she whispered.

"Let's close the door before Ted comes back for the encore," he said taking her face in his hands tenderly and smiling at her. She was stunning, aroused and slightly disheveled with pink cheeks and lips.

Sara laughed and tugged on his arm, pulling him further inside and kicking the door shut. She turned the deadbolt and spun around to face him. He wondered what he looked like to her. Did he look as aroused as he was? Did he look desperate and wanton like he felt? None of that mattered much when her lips crashed with his again and she began pushing him backwards until the backs of his knees collided with the couch. She gave him a light shove and he fell onto the cushions with a short bounce. He couldn't help but grin at her surprising aggressiveness.

Towering over him, she smiled and shrugged a shoulder. His eyes traveled shamelessly over her long body and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. He could still taste her on his mouth and it made him ache. The need to touch her more surpassed anything and everything and after giving her an appreciative smile, he tugged on her hand until she straddled his lap and began kissing him again. When she settled down on his body and made full contact with his lap, he groaned and realized how hard he was. He was throbbing against her as she grinded into him, moaning into the deliciously suggestive kiss they were sharing. Her tongue was massaging his and every now and then, she would nip his bottom lip, causing him to squeeze her hips and grunt his approval.

This was what is was like to kiss Sara Sidle, he thought, and there would be no more pretending.

He didn't know why, but when she broke apart to start a trail of wet kisses down his neck, he asked, "You want to do this? You sure?" His voice was husky and burdened with lust.

Sara just chuckled against his hot skin and answered, "I think it's pretty clear I wanna do this, Grissom."

He chuckled too and leaned his head back, enjoying the feel of her lips on his sensitive neck. She stilled and pulled back, looking at him seriously as he cracked his eyes open.

"You want to do this, right?" she asked, her uneasiness showing again.

Every nerve ending in his body was on full alert. He had an almost painful erection and it was all he could do not to thrust into her. It was finally happening for them and stopping was the furthest thing from his mind. So he smiled and squeezed her hips, bucking into her just a little, hoping she understood, and settled for borrowed words. "I think it's pretty clear  _I_  wanna do this, Sara."

Sara laughed throatily and gave a coy smile, her eyes shooting downward between them where their clothed bodies met. "Mmm, yeah, I just want to make sure all body parts are in agreement, here."

His eyebrows came together in confusion and her hand trailed up his arm and neck, settling gently on his slightly sweaty forehead. She tapped his skin lightly and whispered, "Like, here… and…" her hand trailed down over his face, neck and chest even slower until it settled over his heart. She fanned her fingers and looked him in the eyes, finishing her thought, "here."

He looked down at her hand and felt a lump forming in his throat, but he felt calm and at ease having gained a certain comfort in the tender contact. He covered her hand with his and looked her in the eyes, hoping his voice would work.

"Oh yeah. Definitely," he said, almost a whisper, and entwined the fingers of his other hand in her hair, pulling her forward in a slow, gentle kiss.

Eventually, Sara pulled back and stood up. Grissom groaned when her body left his, already painfully aware of how much he needed her. They made it to her bedroom, where the midmorning light was cascading over every surface. It was a warm light that seemed to match his blissful mood and the way it buttered Sara's skin, made her look even more delicious, made him thankful that he would soon see her completely naked in it.

She pulled on his hand and turned in his arms with a light laugh as they neared the bed. He tried to kiss her again, but she shoved him back until he bounced on the bed. Once again, he chuckled delightfully at her ability to dominate him. He couldn't keep his hands off of her, though, as she bent in front of him to remove his shoes and socks. But when she began unbuckling his belt and sliding the zipper down his slacks, he had to grab the edge of the mattress to keep himself in control of his movements. Her knuckles grazed his arousal through his boxers as she slipped his pants off and when she looked back up at him, she gave a demure smile. All he could do is shake his head in amazement and bite his lip.

When she stood back up, Grissom could take no more. He reached out and touched her stomach over her shirt, trailing his fingers down until he met the edge of her shirt. When his fingers slipped underneath the fabric and tickled her smooth flesh, she lifted a hand and rested it on his head, sliding her fingers lightly and reverently through his short curls. Eyes glanced upward at her and he saw that she was watching him intently, fully capable of letting him take his time with her body. But after a moment, she pulled the t-shirt off and Grissom licked his lips in anticipation, his fingers skimming her skin lightly and climbing to the edge of her simple black bra. When his thumbs grazed her breasts through the fabric and he gave her warm stomach a wet kiss, Sara gasped sharply. His mouth went dry as he unbuttoned her pants and lowered them down a little bit then watched as she wiggled free from the denim.

"Come here," he whispered and once again she smiled and straddled him while he scooted up closer to the headboard of her already disheveled bed.

He laid there for an unknown amount of time while she loomed over him, their bodies intimately touching through thin layers of clothing. He just looked at her in awe and she let him, which surprised him. Unable to control his hands anymore after a long moment of watching her watch him, he let his palms slide up the bare skin of her back and he pulled her down so that he could kiss her. Her body pressed into his as he groped her back, her hips, and her ass. Lips molded together and tongues danced around. Before he knew it, Sara was completely naked and writhing atop him. When she pulled herself back up, he had an incredible view of her bare body. Her breasts fit his hands perfectly as he held them. Sara moaned with delicious femininity as his hands made soft motions on her breasts. And when his hand made its way down the skin of her stomach and to the juncture between her thighs, he gasped with astonishment at how wet she was for him. He could feel himself hardening painfully against the fabric of his boxers and while he wanted to take his time with her before, now he wanted nothing in the world but to be buried deep inside her and finally feel what it was like to have Sara Sidle wrapped around him.

Grissom's thumb grazed her wet, sensitive nub and she whimpered as she fell forward, her hands resting on his chest. He applied more pressure, noticing how she bucked her hips and moaned, and realized how important it was for him to see her pleased. It was agonizing, the feel of her grinding against him and he wondered briefly if he would even be able to control himself but like a gift, he felt and heard her moaning out his name as she succumbed to absolute bliss and thrashed against his hand.

Though he didn't mean to say it out loud, he whispered his amazement in some form of "Oh my God" and she smiled lazily, her eyes still closed. The image of her climaxing—the way she bit her lip and whimpered, the way her hands clutched at his chest, they way her eyelids relaxed, the way she squirmed—was too much for him to handle. Luckily, Sara wasted no more time.

Mumbling something about birth control pills, she finally peeled off his boxers and released him. He gasped and squeezed her hips in appreciation as she wrapped her hand completely around him, gripping him firmly. In a surprisingly fluid motion, he had her under him and she laughed quietly with delight. He couldn't suppress his grin as he propped himself up and loomed over her, poised at her entrance. He kissed her, long and slow and relished in the feeling of her body pressed so close to his. It was a warmth he had forgotten existed and we he pulled back and looked fully into her eyes, he realized, it was actually a different kind of warmth. A warmth he had never really known.

Sara rested her hand on his face and gave him a sweet smile, trailing her fingers through his beard. She was completely ready, he knew, and with one last kiss he pushed inside of her, reveling in the instant pleasure that coursed through his body. She fit perfectly around him and he wanted to tell her, wanted her to know how she made him feel.

He rested his head in beside hers, whispering in her ear, "You feel incredible, Sara."

Sara groaned in response and began meeting his thrusts as he quickened his pace and deepened his strokes. He whispered his amazement in her ear one more time and she came undone beneath him, whimpering out her pleasure once again. He propped himself up to watch her, but the feel of her nails digging into his back spurred him on and after a few sloppy and deep thrusts and an equally sloppy and wet kiss, he unraveled.

He could feel himself slowing and slipping out of her, but he couldn't move. It had been so long since he felt anything close to what he was feeling in that moment and the idea that he had really and truly just made love occurred to him. It didn't scare him like he thought it would and he thought that was a nice change and maybe he really could do this.

Giving her a short and gentle kiss, he rolled to the side and exhaled, wiping the sweat from his brow. The room was silent and Grissom wondered briefly if she felt awkward. He didn't, which was new for him and he felt proud of himself, proud of that change in him. She pulled the blanket over them and rested her head on his chest. His fingers instinctively began tracing soothing patterns on her back while his other hand covered hers that lay on his stomach. It was a gentle, tranquil moment loaded with reflection.

Grissom wanted to see her, really look at her so he rolled over on his side making her do the same and looked her in the eyes, grinning like a fool. When she smiled back and kissed him, he felt like a new man and wondered if she felt the same as him.

"You seemed hesitant before," he began, tenderly playing with her hair. His voice was quiet and soft.

She was still smiling a little, looking at his chest when she answered, "I was."

He waited a moment, taking in her almost timid demeanor and asked, "Are you still?"

"Maybe a just a little."

He nodded his understanding and let the quietness settle again.

"You said some really sweet things in the park." she said with a quick glance to his face.

"I meant them."

"But you've said sweet things before and normally you just back away and pretend you didn't say anything at all." She gave a little shrug and grinned at him.

"I was a little nervous when you rushed out the door this morning. I didn't want to pretend it didn't happen," Grissom replied candidly, propping his head in his hand and peering down at her reverently. "Not this time."

She gave a sheepish sort of grin and ran her hand over his beard. "I guess I needed you to come to me just so I knew things really had changed."

The word gave him pause and he thought of Jane.

" _You really haven't changed at all have you?"_

" _I'm forty-nine years old. It's unlikely I'm going to."_

He really could do this, he thought, and a new sort of confidence washed over him as he pulled Sara in for a hug. He kissed her neck, a loud comical smack, and pulled back to look at her. She was smiling happily at him, pleased with him. He grabbed her hand and kissed the fingers.

"You know," he began with an amused grin, "You never actually answered my question."

She looked at him with confusion for a second and then his meaning occurred to her. She grinned back then looked at him with mock incredulity. "Where have you been the past hour?"

He chuckled, understanding her completely and hoping she wouldn't turn his question around on him. He didn't think he could pour out how he felt about her in words. And although there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he loved her, it wouldn't be an easy thing for him to communicate. Some things would take more time to change.

But Sara seemed fine with that and with a content sigh, she began drifting off to sleep. He watched her and smiled to himself.

Some things already had.

_Finito_


End file.
